


Venice Beach

by BronteRising



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - Hippies, Character Death, Drug Use, F/M, Falling In Love, Hitchhiking, Recreational Drug Use, Soldier Bellamy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 01:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16336982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BronteRising/pseuds/BronteRising
Summary: Two wandering souls meet at Woodstock during the summer of love, through their travels and journey together they come to know what love, pain and redemption is. Just because someone's gone, doesn't mean they aren't with you





	Venice Beach

**Author's Note:**

> There is drug usage
> 
> I am studying and learning all I can about the 60s and 70s to make this fix accurate 
> 
> I hope you guys like the first chapter
> 
> Find me on tumblr: bronterising

_ Present Day _

 

Madi felt ghosts, all around herself. Her husband squeezed her hand supportively. It did little to warm the chill in her bones. She turned to him. He leaned down to press a sympathetic kiss to her lips. 

 

“Give me a second?” She couldn't bring herself to  say more. She didn't have to.

 

“Take all the time you need. I’ll be in the car.” he kissed her one last time before leaving her, standing on the front steps of her former childhood home. She reached for the brass knob, hesitating before she opened it. If the ghosts were in there would she let them out? Or into herself? She took a deep breath and opened the door into the dark hallway. 

 

The echoes of the past were loud as she looked around. Once a bright and happy home, it was dark and gloomy. As if all the life had been sucked out of it. She looked at the pictures on the wall, into the living room, where a still open can of beer sat next to her father’s chair, right by the remote. She smiled, she could almost see him sitting there. 

 

She went to the bedroom first. Pushing open the door she took it in. Her father hadn’t been the cleanest person. Clothes and miscellaneous items were strewn about, the bed was still unmade. Madi blinked back hot tears, he wasn't there anymore. She couldn’t feel him anywhere. 

 

She made her way to the closet, opening it up to find his old marine trunk, sitting on the floor as if it was waiting for her.She smiled, knelt down and ran her fingers over the gold lettering.  _ Sergeant Bellamy Michael Blake. _ Her dad. She always admired the trunk. He would sit her on his knee and open it, and he showed her all the pictures and letters. She opened it, closing her eyes, imaging her father standing beside her, ready to tell her more about his experiences. But when she opened them he was gone. She was left in the cold bedroom, with only his memories. 

 

Sitting atop of his things was a leather folder with a letter attached to it. She picked it up, feeling the smooth, cool texture beneath her fingers. The letter had her name scrawled across it in her father's handwriting. She set the folder down and opened the letter.

 

_ My darling Madi,  _

_ Im So proud of you. Everyday you remind me more and more of your mother. And I know you're probably sitting in my room reading this, wishing I was there. I am baby. I'll always be by your side, your mother will as well.  _

_ I know I wasn't the perfect dad. I forgot to say the things I was supposed to sometimes, but I hope I at least got this right.  _

_ In the folder is a manuscript. Your mom started writing it before she got sick, I finished it, but I want you to write the epilogue. Wrap up out story and start your own. You don't have to take care of me anymore. So live baby. For me. And your mom. _

 

_ I love you with all of my heart and soul. I'm always with you, _

_ Dad _

 

Tears flooded Mark's eyes. She kissed the letter and placed it beside her. The manuscript was heavy, pages withered and yellowed with age. She read the title page;

 

Venice Beach

By Clarke M. Griffin

 

Madi traced the words with her go gers, then flipped the first page. 

 

_ August 1969: The Summer of Love _

 

It was crowded and rainy but Clarke Griffin was having the time of her life. It was the summer of love and she had hitchhiked, crosscountry from Berkeley to New York for this. Woodstock. It was the last night and she was gonna love it up.

 

“Hey man!” Clarke heard her best friend shout in her ear, she turned her head to see, Raven Reyes grinning at her. Raven didn't wear a shirt, her long brown hair covered her breasts, her sequined skirt hung low on her hips and her smile matched her eyes. Hazy and glazed. 

 

“Hey!” Clarke responded, she was floating, everything was chill, the universe was balanced. 

 

Raven pointed in the direction shed emerged from, she had to shout over the music and people talking. It was a chaotic mess. But it was real peace too. “The guys I was hanging with say they're heading to Cali after this too. Said we can ride with them. It'll be a little crowded but it's a straight shot home.” 

 

“Sounds like a plan!” Clarke stood on her tiptoes to shout in her friend's ear. Raven took her hand and weaved here through the throng of people towards the group she had mentioned. 

 

Raven pulled her toward a group of people sitting cross legged and talking nonchalantly. They all smiled, greeted her with the peace sign and went back to their conversations. Raven sat down with Clarke beside a shaggy haired man with a beard. He wore a loose fitting white button down with most of the buttons open, exposing his chest. He wore tan cargo pants and no shoes. His feet were dirty. He had a cigarette hanging from his lips, knee propped so his elbow could rest on it, and  _ The Complete works of Charles Baudelaire  _ in his hand. He cracked a smile when he noticed Clarke beside him. He had freckles and long lashes.

He looked her up and down. She wore a loose multicolored skirt and a tab bikini top. Her hair was loose and wavey, flowers weaved into the gold strands that cascaded down her back and over her shoulders. She knew what he'd be looking at, but wondered what he saw. 

“Hi.” His voice was low. Baritone. It echoed through the fog of her mind.

“Hi.” He was watching her, sizing her up, after a moment he stretched out his hand. She took it.

“I'm Bellamy.”

“Clarke.”

“You're Ravens friend?” he gestured towards the dark haired girl, she was flirting shamelessly. Clarke averted her gaze. 

“Yeah.” She paused,”she said you'd give us a ride home?” he nodded, bringing his cigarette away from his mouth to flick the ashes. 

“Yeah, I gotta get back to my family in San Fran. Ever been?” She shook her head.

“No, but I live in Berkeley though.” 

“That's only forty five minutes from me,” he winked, “you should visit sometime.I'd love to show a choice girl like you around.” He was flirting now.

“What are you reading?” She asked, abruptly changing the subject. He held up the tattered book. 

“Charles Baudelaire. He was a poet” Clarke felt her heart pick up speed, he leaned closer, brushing her hair over her bare shoulder. She closed her eyes as he whispered in her ear, “ _ L'amour est une rose. Chaque petale une illusion. Chaque epine, une realite,”  _ his accent as he speaks gives him a more guttural and harsher tone. Clarke was enchanted and impressed.

“That's beautiful.” She said as he pulled away. He put the book down on the grass and leaned back. 

“It means,’love is a rose. Every petal an illusion. Every thorn a reality. He was a deep dude.” She smiled at him, clearly intrigued by his intelligence.

“So what brings you here?”  he shrugged. 

“Heard about it from some friends,” he jerked his head towards the others. “Decided to check it out. Take a break from real life. You?” 

“Kinda the same thing,” she chuckled. 

“Clarke!” Raven threw her arm around Clarke's shoulders, thinking to the ground beside her. Bellamy raised his eyebrows in amusement but said nothing. The sun was going down now, a new music set had begun, people were dancing and partying, the smell of reefer filled the air like a potent popporiue. Raven held something dried and shriveled towards Clarke's face  she scrunched her nose. 

“What's that?” Raven giggled. 

“Shrooms. They're awesome. Try one.” Clarke hesitated, she looked up to see Bellamy reach out and take one in his hand. “Right on.” Raven encouraged. Clarke took the remaining one. 

“Come on,” Bellamy said, eyes locked on hers, “Let's take a trip.” They both brought the shrooms to their mouths and swallowed. 

  
  


Everything was a blur, shapes and Technicolor around her. Euphoria courses through Clarke's veins as the psychedelic took hold. She danced with Bellamy, the boy she had met only a little while before. Letting him hold her close and swaying to the beat of the music. 

The night was long, she wouldn't remember most of it tomorrow but the euphoria she felt while dancing and laughing with her friends was nothing compared to the fire that burned in her belly every time Bellamy looked at her. They laughed and joked and Clarke felt herself rambling more and more….Then….Nothing. She passed out, on the ground, a smile still on her face. 

  
  


Clarke woke up the next morning to the sounds of a shell guitar being played. She slowly opened her eyes and rolled over. Her body was stiff and sore, no doubt from sleeping on the hard ground. She sat up to see the group she had partied with was still sleeping, Ravens arm was draped over the boy she had been flirting with, everyone else was knocked out.

 

All but Bellamy. 

 

He stood, wrapped up in a blanket, making Clarke realize how cold she was. It was early morning, the sun still rising and the sky still tinged pink with it. He was watching the stage, watching none other than Jimi Hendrix wailing the Star Spangled Banner on his guitar. Clarke silently got to her feet, coming to stand beside him. 

“Hey,” he said when he felt her presence beside him. He was wearing glasses now, thick frames, they were cute on him. He had some serious bedhead and his eyes looked tired. She wondered how he managed to keep them from getting trampled on or lost. 

“Hey,” her teeth chattered. 

“You cold?” he opened the blanket, he was bare chested beneath, his pants riding low enough to see the perfect v of his hips and the soft tufts of hair that traveled down his navel. She went willingly, pressing herself into him, he wrapped his arms around her. He was warm. She buried her face in his chest, mentally freaking out for a moment that he was a stranger, only to calm herself by thinking,  _ it's woodstock. It's just peace and love. Love is free. _

“Thank you.” she mumbled. He didn't say anything else. Slowly as the sun came up and Jimi continued to play more people woke, slowly, little by little people began to leave. Woodstock was over. It was time to head home. 

  
  


“The traffics gonna be killer trying to get out of here,” the guy Raven had been with was saying as they loaded the van up. Clarke stood off to the side, watching the boy, Finn, his friends Jasper and Monty and Bellamy, load their bags into the van. Month's girlfriend was chatting away with some festival goes she had met, saying goodbye. 

“Don't worry man. Nobody's in a rush. We'll get back when we get back,” Bellamy looked over at Clarke and Raven, “That cool with you two?” they nodded in unison. 

“Alright. Everybody hop in. It's gonna be a little crowded.” Everyone crowded into the back of the van, when Clarke when to step up into the back a hand reached out, stopping her. It was Bellamy. 

 

“You wanna sit up front with me? I'd like to talk to ya a little more.” She blushed, a faint smile playing at her lips. 

“Sure.” He slammed the back van door shut and opened the passenger door for her, letting her climb in.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
